


Effect. Cause.

by badass_normal



Category: FlashForward
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-03
Updated: 2010-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badass_normal/pseuds/badass_normal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's probably nothing more pathetic than a self-fulfilling prophecy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Effect. Cause.

It's Valentine's Day when she fucks Lloyd in his car, on her driveway. Fucking is new to her; her head knocks against the ceiling, his fingers bruise her hips, it all goes by with a burst of hazy stars in front of her eyes and a relief that only later makes her think of the terminally ill finally passing away.

She can almost feel the strings some invisible puppet master is yanking, and of course Lloyd has no regard for them, if the way his intoxicated eyes coast over her with blossoming love is anything to go on. Something pushes them forward through this, even if that something is only improper knowledge.

It's Valentine's Day and free will is apparently a joke.

At least that means this can't be her fault.

\--

_On the third night away from home you pass out on the floor in your office, the familiar, most welcome darkness physically holding you in place. Your vision is actually just about gone, or maybe your eyes are simply refusing to stay open. Either way, it's blackout drunk in all its glory, and you greet it like the suicidal poison it wasn't always. _

Ninety minutes later you wake up and swallow another mouthful from the flask, and then you fall asleep in your chair, head on your desk, and you don't dream for the first time in more than seven years.

\--

She's been to al-anon before, but she thinks maybe she's gone a step further, that there needs to be an official title for people so dedicated to their alcoholic partners that they break their own vows to leave, that they take on the characteristics of the alcoholics who so devastate their lives. Because like an alcoholic she's making excuses for him, and she's in denial that he's drinking, and she can't leave him even though his drinking has so utterly consumed her life. Not to mention Charlie, and if she can't leave for Charlie's sake, is she really any better than the addict who will stop for nothing?

He's drinking, but she can't prove it, chooses not to prove it, so she stays.

(But she's falling for another man, maybe to subconsciously get back at him, and maybe she doesn't hate being passive-aggressive as much as she thought she would, because this is _easy._)

\--

_When it comes to concealing things, you're a pro. Years of practice. _

Olivia probably senses something, but she has yet to confront you, and even if she does, you doubt you'll be able to stop. You haven't so much fallen off the wagon as swan-dived, and every night is your last drink.

Except it's not. That's not how it works. Something else you've learned over the years.

You remember a time where work was still possible while under the influence, when you were younger and more resistant to the incoherence that accompanies the way you drink.

Since it isn't anymore, it's only a matter of time before this mess becomes public knowledge. The flash-forwards are leading you to ruin and you know now, as you've maybe known all along, that there's no abandoning the path they're dragging you down.

\--

"I was thinking—Dr. Benford—our children seem to get along splendidly?"

She knows what he is implying, but he needs to learn to spit things out, so she stares blankly at him and waits for him to propose a play-date she can't decline.

"Perhaps we should set the awkwardness of our—our situation aside and set up a get-together of sorts between them? I'm somewhat desperate for Dylan to interact with people his own age, you see."

"Do you really think we should be spending time together, all things considered?"

He laughs. Nervously, of course. "We are both adults, are we not? Or do you think we'll be unable to control ourselves even with our children around?"

The thing is, the future says they won't. And she doesn't know what to trust anymore.

\--

_The day Olivia and Lloyd get together with the kids (she's told you all about the plans, because honesty is her policy, for better or for worse,) the world ends. _

You silently leave the house, and you drink. She's given you an iron-clad excuse, after all, or so you tell yourself.

The first drink is like anchoring after seven years of being adrift. You remember, then, that alcohol is the one true love in your life, and suddenly it doesn't really matter that your other love is going to someday sleep with another man. The cold glass in your hand and the bitterness in your throat ensure that you'll always have something to fall back on.

\--

She is terrified of her own husband.

Every day the signs of impending relapse blink red lights in her eyes. He's irritable, he's restless, he's discontent, and she knows all too well what that means. He stops going to meetings, he stays out late.

He'll blame her flash-forward. It's unfair beyond articulating, but she feels helpless just the same. It's why she's always been afraid of flying, because once you get on a plane, you could very well crash and there's absolutely nothing you can do to prevent it. And that's her, now.

And Lloyd, _God,_ Lloyd. They can't stop running into each other, making small talk, getting comfortable. It's like Mark can sense it, because the more she sees Lloyd, the closer he gets to drinking. And it's also a vicious cycle. The closer Mark comes to a drink, the more she needs Lloyd, in spite of how much she wants to hate him for being her lover in a hypothetical future.

But she can't seem to help it, and that's the most terrifying part of all.

\--

_After Lloyd Simcoe shows up at your house, you have an actual entity to imagine Olivia sleeping with. That's the virtual death of your marriage, right there. The moment trusting Olivia's future becomes impossible. _

But this isn't an issue of trust, not really. This is all you. You're working under the assumption that these flash-forwards will come true, and of course it's bled into all aspects of your life. So you're being totally irrational with Olivia, holding her guilty for something that hasn't happened.

You're an alcoholic. It's so easy to blame someone, even if you know better.

\--

The day Lloyd Simcoe shows up at her house and Mark has a subdued panic attack, that's the day, in hindsight, that Olivia throws in the towel. She pretends otherwise, still tries to keep her distance from Lloyd, still works on her marriage.

She tries, but whether or not everyone's flash-forwards are really the future, she imagines that the Benford household will make theirs happen, regardless of the state of the rest of the world.

She's a few months away from believing in fate.


End file.
